Bent not Broken (297 page)

“I don't know. I'm...I'm—”

“Good Lord, Celeste, if there was ever a time to say the fucking
f
word, it's now.”

“I'm fucked.” I say stoically. “I'm so fucked!” I shriek.

“Thank God!”

Chuckling, I ask, “Don't you think it's a little odd to thank God for my saying the
f
word?”

“Nope, not at all. It helps a lot. And you need a lotta help.”

“I know, I know,” I say as I stop to stand in front of her French doors, crossing my arms over my middle.

“Can you just tell them no for once? Put your foot down?”

“Not only will they trample all over my foot. They'll trample all over my whole life. My boys' lives. I've watched them do it, Bon. It's gruesome.”

“Geez. It's like they're some kinda corporate mafi—”

I spin and pin her with a look. “Right, we don't say that word. Sorry,” she mutters petulantly. They are exactly that, which is why we don't say it. Silent tears start to make their way down my cheeks. I didn't want to cry again, but I really was at a loss.

“Oh, baby girl,” she coos. “We'll figure something out. You've got plenty of money, right? You're not dependent on them in that way.”

“The money is the least of my issues, but, yes, I do have plenty of it in my own right.”

“I have the perfect solution. I know who you can marry, and,” she says stretching out the word ‘and,’ “you're in love with him already.”

“Not this again,” I mutter as I rest my head in both my hands.

“I've been watching you two. Y'all have it so bad for each other.”

“OK,” I slap my knees with force, wincing. “This conversation just ceased being helpful. I have a few things to do before going to get the boys, so I'll see you later.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “You're an idiot, ma belle amie.”

“Yes, I know. You know how I know? ‘Cause you've told me about a billion times over the past couple of months,” I state acerbically.

“Oh, oh! So touchy. Me thinks thou protests too much.” She has the audacity to giggle at me.

I quirk my eyebrow at her and look down my nose at her as I calmly state, “Me thinks you forget who I'm related to. It's there under this calm façade. Don't push me,” I warn her.

She throws her hands up in mock protest, “Oh, yes, ma'am. Princess of the maf—” She cuts herself off at my look. “I'm done,” she concedes.

Five

My World Shifts

THE BOYS AND I arrive home after guitar lessons, MMA lessons, and French lessons— Archer, Paris, and Finn respectively. I'm utterly spent, but I paste a smile on my face because Adrian is here with pizza and a movie. It's my favorite day of the week. Well, it was until the Disastrous Duo struck.

“Hey, Adrian!” Finn shouts as we clear the door.

“What's up, Adrian,” Archer gives him a chin lift as he makes his way to feed the dogs.

“Hi, Adrian,” Paris mutters before going to check on Skip.

“Finn, he's four feet away, son,” I half-heartedly chastise him, getting exactly why he's so excited—Adrian's just awesome like that.

“Hey, bud,” Adrian returns with a fist bump. “How was school?”

“Sucked,” Finn replies flippantly.

“Really, Finn,” I try. “We've talked about this word. I
loathe
this word.”

“I know, Mom.” He scrambles onto a barstool and slaps himself on both cheeks, resting his head in his palms. “But everybody says it.”

I open my mouth to give him the-everybody-does-it-so-does-that-mean-you-have-to do-it-too speech, but Adrian puts his finger up, motioning for me to let him give it a shot.

“All right, bud.” Adrian leans across the bar on his elbows, and it takes the willpower of a hundred nuns not to check out his nice, tight butt. I'm thoroughly impressed with myself and my ability to resist—for the most part. “So here's how it goes—girls don't like ugly words like that. It makes you look like a jerk when you say those things in front of them. Girls like gentlemen. Do you hear me say those kinda words in front of your mom?”

“No, sir.” Finn snaps to attention.

“That's ‘cause I save 'em all up and let 'em loose when I'm with the guys,” he reasons. I had been grinning ear to ear, but my mouth falls slack upon that piece of handy advice. Adrian turns to me and winks and grins like he's just figured out how to solve world hunger.

My mouth closes and tilts to a half-smile of its own accord. “You were on a roll for a minute there, Adrian.”

He just chuckles and turns back to Finn, “All right, so do we have a deal? Don't talk like that around moms and girls and stuff. Save it for the locker room.”

Finn wrinkles his face up and states seriously, “I don't have a locker room.”

“It's a figure of speech, bud. But you get me, right?”

Finn jumps off his stool, squares off and gives Adrian a salute. “Yes, sir, Adrian, sir!”

Adrian leans in and ruffles his wavy dark brown hair, “At ease, Marine.” My father would die.

“Finn, go wash up, please.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he yells with a sprint to the bathroom.

“Man, that kid has got some energy, huh?”

“Yes, he does.”

His glacial blue eyes meet mine, and I forget what we were talking about when he abruptly changes gears on me. “What's wrong with Paris?”

“You noticed that, huh?” I take a sharp breath, debating whether or not to tell him what Paris told me on the drive home.

“Yep, so what's going on?”

I look around to make sure there are no little ears lurking. Seeing the coast is clear, I confess, “He's upset because some jerks at school keep calling him 'gay,' and he hates it.”

“Kids can be fucking assholes,” he states sagely.

“No kidding,” I agree. “But I thought we didn't talk that way in front of girls,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. My hand twitches to smack him playfully because I'm a touchy-feely kind of girl, but I fight the urge. I haven't touched him since the morning of the talk.

“Sorry about that,” he says but doesn't sound sorry. “It was called for, though. I fuckin' hate a pussy bully,” he says as if to prove his point for the need for profanity.

“Well, OK then,” I quip. “Please don't use that kind of language in front of the boys, Adrian.”

“Babe,” he says flatly with a raised brow.

“Yes?”

“Babe.” Same tone. “Really.”

“Fine. I get it. You don't talk like that in front of the boys.”

“Sure as hell don't.”

I chuckle, “All righty then. Did ya get it all out of your system?”

He throws his head back and replies, “Yes, ma'am,” with a laugh. Mesmerized, I watch as he runs his hand over his scruff and looks slightly contrite. “I got your favorite,” he tells me, trying to distract me. It works. I'm starved.

“Oh, thanks!” I snatch the box from him, snap the lid open, and inhale deeply.

“I don't know how you eat that crap,” he says with disdain as he starts to pour ranch dressing all over his pizza.

“I don’t know how you eat
that
crap,” I retort, eyeing his ranch-saturated pizza. “That’s disgusting.”

“Ranch makes everything better,” he says.

“Hmm…” I direct my attention back to my pizza. “Mmm...it smells so good.” I moan and close my eyes as I take another deep breath. My eyes fly open as I realize what that just sounded like, and I chance another look at him. His face is frozen with a look that can only be described as heated and hungry. My mouth goes dry and I pull my lips in to moisten them with my tongue, which makes me think of his mouth, which makes my eyes dart to his mouth. I try to pull my eyes away and make a joke or something, anything, but I seriously cannot. You could literally hear a pin drop in my kitchen right about now, and there's nothing I can do about it. All I can think about is how amazing his scruff would feel against my soft skin and how wet his full lips would make mine.

Before either of us can do anything stupid, I hear a snappy little bark as Ruby bounds in the kitchen. She deftly avoids Adrian's ankles as she makes a beeline for me. I jerk out of my stupor and exclaim, “Hey, baby girl,” louder than I normally would. Saved by my Maltese.
Thank you, Ruby.
“There's my pretty girl,” I coo as I scoop her up and cuddle her in my arms. She tries to lick my face but settles for my throat as I throw my neck back in an effort to escape her wet tongue. I try, I really do, not to look at Adrian but can't resist a quick peek. He's staring at my throat like he wishes it were him doing the licking.
Oh, how I wish it too, Adrian.

After our pizza and movie, Adrian picks up a comatose Finn to tote him to his bed. Plays hard, crashes hard. That's my Finn. I smile at the sight of him cradled on Adrian's shoulder so lovingly. Feeling a fissure run through my heart and quick tears spring to my eyes, I quickly avert my face and rustle up Archer and Paris.

Following Paris to his room, I tell Archer I'll be right there to tuck him in.

“I got Paris tonight, Cel,” Adrian decrees.

“All right. Give me a kiss, Paris,” I tell him as he scuttles back to lay one on me. “Muah!” I smack loudly. “Love you, sweetness.”

“Love you too, Ma,” he tells me.

After I get Archer tucked away and check on Finn, I make my way into the kitchen to tidy up real quick. Adrian enters the kitchen not long after me with a huge grin on his face.

I can't help but smile back. “What?” I ask him around my smile.

“That kid. He's an old soul.” His eyes gleam with admiration of my Paris.

“I know, right? He's pretty amazing.”

“They're all pretty amazing,” he finishes. Another fissure.
How could I not love someone who loves my kids so much?
I startle at that thought.

“Well, all is done here, I'm gonna head to bed. Want me to walk you out?” He grabs his stuff and gives me a nod.

As we're walking to the door, Adrian is filling me in on his upcoming gigs and plans for the next few weeks. I'm trying to focus on what he's saying, but, suddenly, my stomach is wreaking havoc on my entire body. My hands and face are instantly clammy, yet I feel like I'm burning up. When my stomach clenches in a most vicious way, I know this is not going to be pretty.

Adrian turns toward me as he reaches the door, and his eyes register his shock at what I can only imagine he sees written all over my face. “Celeste—”

I throw my hand up at him, spin, and make a mad dash for the closest bathroom. His following closely on my heels registers slightly as I consider how horrifying this moment is about to be, but I have absolutely no control over my body right now. I fling the toilet lid up, and the contents of my stomach violently eject themselves. I feel my hair being swept off my shoulders and know that Adrian is holding it in a makeshift ponytail for me.
That's incredibly sweet and incredibly embarrassing
, I think. This is not a quick purge. This is violent, unrelenting heaving.

After what seems like forever has passed, my stomach shows some mercy on me and seems to settle. Adrian runs his hand up and down my back for a minute. Then I feel him reach for a washcloth. He never releases my hair as he wets it and then places it on my brow. “Cel, geez, baby. It's that shit pizza you love. I tried to tell you not to eat that crap.”

My stomach pinches upon hearing his endearment. He hasn't called me that in a while—two months to be exact. He's right. Spinach, mushrooms, artichokes, and alfredo sauce taste delicious going down. Not so much going in the other direction. “It must have been, but it's never made me sick before. You don't feel ill do you?” I say weakly.

“No, come on let's get you to bed.”

We make our way into my bedroom, and he helps me ready my toothbrush. “Thank you so much, Adrian,” I tell him. “I think I've got it from here.”

“I'll just stay for a little while and make sure you're good, all right?”

“No, really. I'm fine now,” I insist. I would prefer to put this memory to bed as quickly as possible even though he's being so gracious.

“What if one of the boys wakes up sick and you're too sick to help them?” he asks. “Just let me stay and make sure y'all are good.”

He has a point. “OK, thank you,” I grimace as I feel my stomach clench painfully again. This trip to the toilet isn't nearly as long, but it's still just as humiliating.

Making a move toward getting up, I feel myself being lifted in the air. I want to protest, but I can't muster the strength. Instead, I relish his carrying me. I bury my face in his shirt and breathe deeply and feel him shudder against me. I can't believe I just did that! I have no shame where he's concerned.

I feel Adrian scoot onto the bed and prop himself against my headboard. Nuzzling into his lap, I promptly pass out.

****

AFTER MONTHS OF seeing Adrian with the Buxom Blonde Brigade, you can imagine my shock at seeing him with what could be a carbon copy of a certain wavy black-haired widow.

We're attending my favorite party of the year—the firm's annual Make-A-Wish Soiree. It’s a charity that has always been close to my heart; I've always thrown my all into making it a successful event. All of the who's who in the law field attend and we raise a ton of money.

Enjoying myself and greeting newcomers with Farah, my second in command, I chat and direct them to the different events being hosted around the room. But when Adrian strides in with my doppelganger, the knife that is still lodged in my heart from his rejection twists. I'd gotten used to watching him with the airheaded eye-candy, but this is too much. She's class. She’s young. She's a more beautiful version of me. And I can tell from the way her eyes move from him to the people around her that she's intelligent.

I swallow hard as they are almost upon me. Again, that unfamiliar feeling of jealousy engulfs me, and I just want to...I just want to punch her in the face. Then I want to give him a kidney shot.
What the hell is wrong with me? I cannot be with him. Why can I not find peace with this and just accept it?
I stiffen my resolve to see him as a friend only. But when I make eye contact with those ocean-blue eyes of his, images of kissing him, joking with him, him playing with my boys, him holding my hair back while I was sick all come rushing to the forefront. All my emotions are jumbled with these memories. Like seaweed they weave their way through my brain and tangle themselves so thoroughly with everything that I am that all I can see is love when I look at him—and it's not friendly love or familial love—it's all-encompassing, I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-loving-you love.